The Seventh Angel
by Sirus J. Hent
Summary: a man stumbles into another world, where the shadows of mankind thrive and is hunted down by his own shadow. he relizes in time how this world is connected to one person who holds the key to ending a century long battle.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The air is dry, filling the mans nostrils as he inhales what he hopes to be his last breaths. A stale sent is in the air, like that of aged cinnamon, like the smell of the dead. Four walls surround him, dark and cold like stone and covered with dust. A dull scraping can be heard from the other side of one. The sound of someone trying to escape it seems. But he knows there's no escaping out of this chamber, this hell.

For ten long years he has been tortured. Both mentally and physically he endured pains worse than any man could imagine. Never knowing when they would end, never knowing when the pain would finally stop and he could rest forever. It was only a matter of time though, when he would finally be free.

Time seemed to lag in the man's mind. How much longer would he have to wait? The answer came sooner than he expected as the sound of a metal lock clicked and the door opened to his cell. A bright light beamed through the entrance, his pupils dilating from not being used to anything but darkness for so long. He lay, as if unconscious, on the ground. Not daring to move in hopes that they think he is dead. Maybe they would give up on him then… maybe.

But he was wrong, they didn't seem to care if he was alive or not for they grabbed a hold of his arms and began dragging him across the ground and into the light outside. Bare skin scraping against the gritty surface, he cringed as the rocks beneath tore at his back and legs. His eyes couldn't focus, couldn't see what was around him. But he could feel the floor change from rock and dust to a polished clean surface of tile.

People could be heard moving around him, their muttering voices trailing off in the distance as they passed. He wondered what their life was like outside of here, outside of this life. How nice it must be to breathe fresh air outside of these walls. His eyes were beginning to focus now; he could see blurry shapes of the people dragging him, two men by the looks of it. The one on his left was slightly bigger than the other. He looked towards the direction he was coming from and saw another man walking behind them. A nightstick in his hands, clearly a security guard. Although what security they needed when he was in this state he couldn't guess. He barely had the strength to breathe let alone lift a finger. Ten years ago this would have seemed appropriate, but not now.

They stopped in front of a large gate made of what looked like steel, but he couldn't tell if it was steel or not since everything was white including the floor, walls, and ceiling. The man on his right let go of his wrist and walked up to a small box on the wall. He placed his hand on it and a green light emitted from it, scanning up and down three times before he removed his hand. The door slid open and he was once again being pulled across the floor.

The room they entered was dark, and once again his eyes had to focus to the lighting. But this time it came quicker. He knew what room he was in, he had visited it many times in the last ten years. This was the room where the questions were asked. Whether it be asking him or torturing him. It was also where the experiments were held to discover what questions about the human anatomy the doctors might have thought of. Simply out of curiosity they said. Yeah right.

The bigger of the two men grabbed a hold of his side and hoisted him onto his shoulder now. He walked a few paces and dropped him onto a table. It was freezing and he gasped as he felt his naked body sprout goose bumps all over. He knew what was going to happen this time. They were going to open him up again and poke around, just for fun. But they would first give him an injection that made him go insane and hallucinate. Seeing demons torturing him and angels dying by their hands. Why he always saw the same thing he didn't know, even less did he care. It was always the same nightmare and he always came back with a different cut on him, blood soaking his body.

They cuffed his wrists to the table, along with his ankles and a strap across his forehead to prevent spinal injury. The placed a metal clasp in his mouth to prevent him from biting his own tongue, they didn't want him to die, no that would ruin all the fun. He looked around and saw the doctors coming into the room, three of them all dressed in white. One of them was tall and wore a pair of black sun glasses. His hair was black and pulled back in a pony tail. He looked emotionless, feeling nothing. A man like that you could truly fear, for what can stop a man if he feels no pain, no remorse? Nothing.

The second man was slightly shorter and much skinnier. He had red curly hair and wore glasses as well, but these were to see better, not to look more intimidating. He had thin fingers and long nails that were horribly dirty. His teeth were chipped and cracked showing signs of decay. He walked stiffly as though one leg might be prosthetic.

The third man was short and rather chubby. He had squinty eyes and a fat nose. He was laughing as he came in the room, a high pitched squeal that couldn't be stood for much longer. He kept his hands clasped together, his fat fingers barely fitting around each other. He wore a strange ring on one hand that shimmered an emerald tint.

Following them were three more security guards, each one carrying a nightstick and looking around in a nervous way, and with good reason. Above them hung many tools which were made for cutting, breaking, tearing and bleeding. The room was completely silent except for the shuffle of the men's shoes against the floor and the hum of a generator nearby, although he couldn't see where it was since the only light there was came from a lamp above him and the light shining through the doorway.

The red haired doctor limped towards him now, he could see his blue eyes staring down at him, smell his foul breath as it pressed against his face. He lifted one long hand and stroked his chin as though lost in thought. " I can never get enough of it zero, no matter how much we probe and torture you, you never talk, never speak even a word.," he said, his voice was scratchy and dry, " and yet you've come so close to death, many times, and yet you haven't died. It's amazing, simply amazing. You're truly my greatest project ever." He stroked zero's long blonde hair and walked away towards the other doctors.

"Well we had better begin then shall we?" said the tallest doctor, he was looking at the shortest doctor and he nodded in agreement. He walked into the darkness and came out holding a syringe with fluid filled to the top.

"The usual dosage I'm assuming?" the short doctor asked, in a joking manner, " we don't want him to feel left out as we have our fun, I'm almost jealous, he gets to be even more entertained than us, screaming and crying like he does." He laughed his high pitched laugh and scuttled over to where Zero lay. "Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit, I'm sure your used to it actually, having been here all these years and what not." He jabbed the needle into the same hole where so many other needles had gone in before, he was positive that this was probably the same needle they had used many times, it seemed likely.

The effect was immediate, the room around him started hazing and soon it was swirling around, unable to tell what was what. He felt sick, his stomach lurched and he strained to break free of his bonds. Sweat was beginning to pour down his face, chest, and hands, everywhere. He began to shake in cold sweat and his chest began to feel heavy, like a hundred pounds sat on top of him. He cringed his teeth as he felt a knife penetrate his skin, dragging downwards and slicing open his abdomen. Hot blood poured down his sides and he began to cry in pain. He looked up and saw three demons their faces grey and grotesque. Twisted and unshapely as they stared down at him. But one of them looked different than the other two; he was hard to focus on. Like there was a constant change in the appearance in his face. But it remained slightly similar each time it shifted, grey and motionless with black eyes piercing through anything he looked at. They were the doctors he realized. He could see the doctors as demons, like the hallucination usually made him see them. He strained to focus but the pain in his stomach grew worse and worse as they prodded and poked with a variety of tools. He didn't know what they were searching for, didn't know why they persisted so much on him and insisted that they open him up every month. Like they had nothing better to do than stare at the insides of the same man over and over again. What were they looking for? But his mind was wiped blank as he saw an angel fall beside them and whisper something into one of the doctor's ears. The doctor grinned and nodded his head towards the angel. She seemed to be crying but Zero couldn't see her face for it was covered by a white mask with two black holes where eyes would be. Red tears were falling from her face though and her chest was rising up and down in a sporadic motion.

She turned and was about to leave when suddenly she was ambushed by a flock of demons more hideous than what the doctors appeared to look like. They dragged her down and clawed at her, tearing flesh and cloth alike. Blood poured from her body and her scream filled the room. Seconds later she lay motionless in her own blood.

"It appears that were going to have to cut this session a little short," said the tallest doctor, "I have other things to attend to at the moment." He looked at the other two doctors and they nodded in agreement. They began stitching together where they had opened him up, and poured alcohol down the opening. Zero screamed in agony and tears streamed down his face.

"Come unstrap him and bring him back to his cell," the red haired doctor ordered the guards, a sound of disappointment in his voice. "And make sure he gets something to eat and drink before the day is over." He then turned and left to meet the other two doctors leaving the room. The guards walking towards him he heard their voices as though he were listening to them from a great distance.

"I'm beginning to hate this job," said one of the guards, "I'm tired of carrying this guy around all the time. I mean come on, how many times can you open a guy up hoping to find something that wasn't there before? Unless they're looking for different colored shit in him I don't see him having anything new anytime soon."

He had no idea how much Zero agreed with him.

"Hey don't complain, if you want out of this job go ahead and resign. But I seem to remember hearing about your wife and kids who were found having the disease. Me personally, I wouldn't want the industry finding out and you know that's exactly what's going to happen if you quit and take them out of protective care." The second guard seemed to relish in this piece of information.

"But it's not like he has the cure in him or anything!" the guard replied, a panicked note in his voice, they can't find anything in him now, or ever!" he began unstrapping Zero and grabbed a hold of his wrists and dragged him off of the table. "If he did have anything they would have found it by now, wouldn't they?" He gave a great heave as he began pulling Zero across the floor and out into the hallway towards his cell.

"Maybe there's more to it," replied the other guard, "maybe they aren't looking for a cure, maybe they're looking for something else, something different about him that separates him from us. Look at his history, I've been doing a little research and his data sheet shows him surviving multiple encounters with death. But he always pulled out of it."

It was true, he had come rather close to death, or so he thought, while under those experiments. But each time he was pushed back to where he was, like a hand holding him down while he was lifting. It didn't seem fair, that he couldn't die, how nice it would be to finally be at peace. But the question had passed though his mind once or twice; why hadn't he died?

"So what you're trying to say, is that you think he's special or something?" the first guard asked in a half mocking sort of way. "You're off your rocker man." He laughed but the second guard simply stared on. The third guard behind them tapped the first and gave him a look.

"Shut up, both of you, he's still conscious you know." The third guard said in a stern voice.

"Oh cram it," replied the first guard, "It's not like he can understand what we're saying right now, with that hallucinogen running through his system. He probably thinks he's off in la la land right now." He laughed again and this time the second guard joined him.

"Yeah I'm sure he's real happy right now, why don't you try taking some of that stuff and see how you feel," the third guard said, "I'm sure you'd love it."

"I think I'll pass," replied the first guard. But he didn't say anything else afterwards and the three guards finally reached the place where Zero's cell was. The third guard walked up to the door and pushed his hand against the small box to the side of it. The scanner went off and the door slid open. The guards dragged Zero's body in and dropped him on the dry floor, shutting the door behind him.

At once he broke down and began crying. He couldn't take it anymore. The pain, the hopelessness, all of it. He was going to remain here until he finally died and there was no escaping it. He had but nothing left but tears that fell to the dirt covered floor. Blood was dripping from his stomach and he didn't care, he wanted it to. He wanted to bleed out and never feel again. He reached down to his stomach and slid his fingers against the stitches. How easy it would be to pull them out, pull out the bit of wire that held him together like a puppet. A puppet disassembled and embarrassed for all to see, then put back together to do it all again.

His finger looped around the wire and he started to pull, but was interrupted by the strangest of things. A drop of water had fallen upon his brow. Its cold wet feeling on his face was so small but it felt like a miracle to him. Another fell and landed on his cheek. He stared up at the black nothingness and wondered what the world was like outside now. Wondered what was happening right now.

It was raining outside. He knew that much, and that little bit of information in the back of his head brought sanctuary to his mind. Sanctuary in knowing that a world still existed outside of these walls. A yearning and desire swept over him and filled his chest. A feeling he had not felt in so long. He wanted to break free now, more than ever. He wanted to feel the rain on his face and to hear the clash of thunder and lightning.

A voice could be heard next to him, the sound of a woman's voice, soft and beautiful. Her words filled his head and his heart leapt for joy. There was someone else in here with him! He hadn't spoken to anyone in over ten years and now in this very room someone sat in the same dark world he did.

"Hello?" he whispered to the darkness, his voice was cracked and strained, "Where are you? I can hear you, it's okay I promise I won't hurt you. Just please, talk to me, please…" he waited in the silence hoping to hear her voice again. But nothing replied, no sound.

And he heard it again, her voice somewhere in her room. It sounded as though she was crying. "It's okay," he whispered, it seemed like a lie though; this place was anything but okay.

"I'm sorry Zachary, I never meant for them to hurt you so much," the woman's voice replied, she was crying even harder now.

Somehow she knew his name; he had not heard it in ten years now, spoken by no one. And this woman suddenly knew his name. Even he had forgotten it over such a long time. He had forgotten many things…

She suddenly came into view, barely visible in the pitch black. It was the angel he had seen previously, but she didn't have wings anymore. She still donned her mask though, its pearly white color radiating in the darkness. Dark streaks were strewn down its cheeks where he assumed the bloody tears had fallen. She stepped closer to him, almost an inch away from his face and her hair brushed against his face as he lay unable to move. It smelled like flowers had.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You'll know in time my love", she whispered, "but for now I'm going to help you. You were never meant to be locked up here, never meant to be given to these creatures. This hell is not where you belong; it wasn't a part of the deal made all those years ago. But they betrayed us, and you were given to them. I'm sorry Zachary, I'm so sorry…" a single tear fell on his cheek and he remembered briefly of the rain he had felt on his face a second ago, it wasn't rain. It was tears.

She leaned in closer to his face and whispered to him. He longed for her now, wanted to touch her feel her skin on his own. How long he had been deprived of love, deprived of life. "Everything is going to come back to you love, very soon I promise…" and she leaned closer and where her lips would have been, her mask touched his lips and she vanished. A ghost of a dying desire, nothing more it seemed. Gone as quickly as it had come.

"Don't go…" he whispered. And he began to cry.


	2. Chapter 1

The Shadows of ourselves

A shadowed day fell upon me as the sun fell into the earth's horizon. The night just beginning my heart began to race and sweat fell from my face. Running into the safe house I locked the door behind me and slowly waited, waited for the time when they would finally find me… the Shadows of once long forgotten fear. Knowing is half the battle, but what is the other half? I've wondered this for ages on end, seeking answers to riddles I didn't understand while constantly running from a creature I could not see, but could feel everywhere I go. In daylight it seemed more distant, like a monster in hiding, watching me, waiting for the right time. When the sun went down however, I could feel it coming, could hear its voice in my head getting louder. It hungered for me, hungered for my very being and would not stop until it found me. This creature being the shadows of my own thoughts, my own words, my own actions, was as smart as myself, knew my methods of living, and knew my own mind better than I did.

This creature is myself…from the twilight.

Few people can say they have found the world of twilight, the world in-between worlds. Found in the seams of earth, heaven, and hell. Neither controlled nor desired, but simply another passage way on the road to the afterlife, or to life itself. Normally you only witness this realm two times in your existence: when you are born, and when you die. But for some, this realm is like walking through the door to your house. Easily accessible, and easy to find once you find it the first time. But like all doors, this door has the ability to be locked, and when it is left open, things tend to go horribly wrong. Beings crossing over where they aren't meant to be, ripples in material that can't be fixed and are permanently fixed in place.

When I had first crossed over to the twilight I was 19 years old. I was sitting inside of a dusty abandoned home which was thought to be haunted. Having been dared to go inside of it I naturally took the challenge to heart and decided to investigate. My footsteps creaked on the rotten wood floorboards, my heart pounding the entire time hoping to not wake whatever beast of my imagination might have been sleeping there. I walked through the house looking for any signs of a ghost of phantom, but none came. No eerie noises, no blood on the floor, nothing. It was a hoax. Just a silly tale to scare off the kids. Laughing to myself I went deeper into the house, investigating the bedrooms, the closets, kitchen, dining room, everywhere. The last stop was the basement and I had saved it for last for a reason. Normally when you hear a horror story or watch a scary movie the bad things usually happen in the basement. And with good reason, they have a naturally foreboding atmosphere, dust in the air, awkward silences and spider webs galore. Not to mention they're just about the perfect setting to kill someone and not make a lot of noise. So naturally I had my doubts about going down there but I had to nonetheless just to fulfill the duty I had taken up at not being a coward. After procrastinating for as long as possible I finally made my way to the basement door. Average door, no unusual marking on it, It didn't even creek when I opened it, what a wonderful start I thought. I made my way down the stairs, taking one at a time knowing that if I needed to head back I could easily with the door open and few stairs behind me. But nothing was wrong; in fact it was completely quiet. But my mind told me it was a little too quiet.

I stepped off the stairs and touched bottom on a hard concrete surface, covered in dust due to the neglect it had received over the years. There was a wooden table set against a wall with boxes stacked on top of it, markings showing that thy contained gardening tools, house hold appliances, etc. normal house stuff. Two chairs were propped against it and on the other side was another chair facing a wall. I walked up to the chair and looked a little closer, noticing that there were bolts holding it down and straps on the arm rests. Not a good sign… my mind immediately began to work its imagination into twisted thoughts of torture and death but I held ground. There wasn't any blood on it, no sign of resistance, nothing to show a struggle. I looked around to see any other traces of oddity and just so happened to find one. On the wall it was facing I noticed the faded markings of what looked like a rune, or a symbol of some sort. My curiosity flew up in an instant and I began to wonder now if this had been some cracked up version of what some person had thought to be a ritual, or maybe even a gateway. It wasn't impossible, that was for sure. People in these parts had a knack for doing weird things, but this was the first time I had actually seen anything interesting before.

I decided to take a seat in the chair, I wanted to actually get a feel for what the person had felt, whatever it was. The wood was uncomfortable, but perhaps that was a standard for weird stuff, you weren't allowed to be comfortable. I looked at the rune and tried to see what he saw, it looked like a very intricate looking "T" with circles and shapes around it. After about five minutes though I decided to give up and leave the basement. However there was a problem.

I was stuck to the chair. Unable to move form it, like someone had super glued my body to it. I struggled with it and still to no surprise, couldn't move. The sun was starting to fall, there was a window to my right and the sky was turning a blood red, fading into the midnight blue of night time. That was when I saw it; the rune on the wall had begun to sort of glow with its own light, the same color as the sky. Starting off dark in the center and brightening to a bright red blood color on the edges. I was fixed on it, unable to look away, when suddenly I was jolted out of the chair and on to the floor.

Dust filled my eyes and I closed them in pain. Rubbing them for several seconds I finally opened them and found that the room had changed. The floor was no longer covered in dust; it was shined and looked like it was made of gold. Circles and symbols covered it in deep cuts all around me. The chair was gone and instead there stood a monument with the same symbol on it as the wall in the basement. There were no walls around me; I was outside in the open. I could see in the distance the horizon, except the sun was a dull golden color, and the sky was black.

There was a staircase that led down and out of the area I stood at. Having the urge to see where I was I went down it for what seemed like thirty minutes or so. Much too long for a staircase I thought to myself. I was going to hate going back up them later. I reached the bottom of the staircase and looked behind me; the platform I was on previously was approximately three thousand feet in the air. That was one hell of a drop I did not want to partake in. I looked around at my surroundings; there was no grass, just a flat surface that had a brownish hue to it. There were trees here and there in the distance but nothing grew on them. Pretty dismal place if you asked me. I walked ahead and saw small shadows scurrying about in the distance. They had no shape to them but they were quick. I decided it would be best to avoid them if I could.

The path I walked on twisted and turned, seeming to go on forever. It was a dull place. Not much noise, no breeze, nothing interesting going on. But the fact that I was in a completely different world still help my attention and so I continued on. About one mile down I cam to a stop in front of a very large door. No walls held it up, nothing supporting it. I figured it was one of those doors that led to yet another place, and I was right. Upon opening it I found myself in a completely different environment, this one was very bright, with blues and white all around me. Everything seemed to glow and create its own light. Small wisps of light drifted lazily in the air, going no where in particular. I stopped to pick up a small stone on the ground, even that glowed. What an odd place, I thought; it was the complete opposite of the place I had been before.

I noticed this time however that I was inside of a very large hall, pinnacles stood on each side covering from the floor to the ceiling. It was like being outside and inside at the same time. I moved onwards and came to the end of the hall, where it opened up to a circular chamber that had seven other hallways connecting it. In the center of the room there was a large basin filled with water, a fountain rose from it in the shape of and an angel holding a mirror in one hand, and a vase in the other where water fell out into the basin below it.

I looked into the mirror and saw my green eyes staring back at me, my round facial complexion and dark brown hair always the same. I smiled and looked down at the vase pouring the water and ran my hands under it. It was cool so I cupped it and drank from it, it was probably the most refreshing water I had ever had and so I splashed some on my face again before looking back in the mirror.

There were no green eyes looking back at me this time. Instead there was a black shade over them, like there were no eyes at all. My skin was gray and cracked and my hair was black. The reflection smiled at me, canine teeth as sharp as daggers, it turned to look behind itself and I did the same to see the reflection standing behind me, less than a foot away. I jumped back and fell into the basin, water suffocating me as I scrambled to get out. I grabbed the angels arm and pulled up to see the reflection still staring at me, sizing me up. My legs trembled as I stood up and I began to back away. His clothes were completely black, torn and raggedy like he had been cut up. My foot reached the edge of the basin and I slowly stepped out, preparing to run.

The reflection must have sensed this because he lunged forward and in my attempt to run my foot slipped from being wet causing me to fall, and him to miss me. I quickly got up and ran down the hallway I cam from, hoping I could out run him. I could hear his footsteps behind me as he attempted to catch his new found prey. I turned and looked behind to see him slowly starting to change, from two legs he began to run on all fours, his body shifting to a more dog-like shape. His teeth bared and his eyes now glowing red he slowly started gaining on me.

I reached the door in time to open it and barely close it before I heard him thud against it. I turned and began to run back where I had come, the scenery flying past me now I saw the black shapes moving again and thought about how it was best to avoid them. A crash behind me told me he had gotten through the door and was on the chase again. I had to get the stairs…how I hated those stairs now. I didn't stop though when I got to them but took them two at a time. I could feel the fatigue hitting me, my chest felt swollen, my ankles hurt, and splints ran down my shins. But I didn't care; my life was on the line now.

I reached the top after fifteen minutes of straight sprinting and bolted for the monolith. Not knowing what to do I simply grabbed a hold of it and prayed, to what I prayed I didn't know but it seemed to work because my surroundings began to fade. Everything except for the reflection however, he had reached the top and had lunged for me, grabbing a hold of my arm as the world slipped away.

His grip felt like fire on my skin, I screamed and attempted to pull away but he was stuck on me, unable to let go. The world was a bright white and I closed my eyes in hopes of a quick death, but none came. Instead I opened them to find myself in the basement of the abandoned house. The grip on my arm was gone now; my skin smoking from his touch and a hand print was left where he had held me. I looked around for him but couldn't see any trace of him. My heart was pounding; I breathed in heaves and didn't dare move from where I lay. Looking at the window to my right again I could see the pale light of morning rising through in beams to reveal the dust in the air.

Very slowly I got up, not daring to move to quickly I looked at where the chair lay in pieces, splintered wood lay on the floor and the bolts had flown off as though dynamite had blown them off. I ran up the stairs and out of the house. My friends were gone and it was quiet, only the chirping of birds in the trees could be heard. I walked out of the driveway and started for home.

.. As much as I would like to be able to say it ended there it did not. For if it had I would not still be running from this reflection, this other half of myself. For the first couple of days afterwards I thought I was alright, thought maybe I had gotten rid of what was following me. But about a week later as I was going to bed I felt as though I was being watched. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up and a chill run down my spine when I turned off the lights, and instead I decided to leave the light on.

I did fall asleep, like it was any other night but I began to have night terrors of the reflection, his nails would cut across my skin and I would wake up to find trickles of blood where he had cut me, no visible wound though, no puncture. It was like I was being attacked in my dream and not dying. This process continued on for days, then weeks. Soon I was beginning to lose sleep and visible signs were showing. My eyes were dark and swollen, my thought process slowed, I was a wreck. And one night as I lay in bed I could have sworn I heard him walking up the stairs to my bedroom. And every night that it happened I would get out of bed and open my door to see him standing at the bottom of them. Looking at me, still smiling, and I stared back, unable to move, unable too breathe until sudden jolt in my head would tell me to close the door and lock it. His footsteps pounding on the stairs and his nails scratching on the door, causing it to shake.

I decided to see a psychiatrist, not that I thought he could help me with this phantom I now faced, but perhaps he could prescribe me something to make me sleep, make me forget he was there. To no avail the doctor told me I was simply having nightmares and to try some relaxing techniques to get me to sleep. A lot of good he was.

Seven months later I am still being chased by this reflection and I stand here now looking outside of my bedroom window, looking at the reflection of myself in the front lawn. Still staring, always smiling, I wonder what he thinks is so funny… I wonder what he would do if I let him catch me. I didn't have to wonder long because once I closed my shades and turned away, there he was, standing in my room at the door.

"You left this unlocked" he whispered. And he pointed at my bedroom door.


End file.
